Why I changed my definition of success in my forties

For much of my career, I thought success had a recognisable shape. It looked like a busy diary, a visible platform, professional recognition and the reassuring sense that I was moving forwards. As a broadcaster, journalist, author and speaker, I learned to value momentum. If I was working hard and achieving goals, I assumed I must be doing well.

That definition served me for a long time. It helped me build a career in television, take on opportunities that stretched me and keep going through periods when confidence was less certain than the finished result suggested. Ambition gave me energy, discipline and direction.

Then I reached my forties, and the old measurements began to feel incomplete. I had achieved things I was proud of, yet achievement alone did not tell me whether my life was healthy, meaningful or sustainable. I started asking a more honest question: what is the value of success if I am too depleted to enjoy it, share it or learn from it?

The scoreboard I inherited

Many women are handed a narrow definition of achievement. We are encouraged to collect qualifications, build an impressive career, remain available to everyone and make the whole process look effortless. The praise can be seductive. Being described as capable, strong or successful feels affirming, particularly when we have worked hard to earn those words.

I absorbed that message early. A full schedule could make me feel important. Recognition could temporarily quiet self-doubt. A new project could become proof that I was still relevant. I mistook being needed for being fulfilled, and I sometimes treated exhaustion as evidence of commitment.

There is nothing wrong with wanting professional progress. I still care deeply about excellent work, creative ambition and doing something useful with my platform. The change was learning to separate achievement from identity. My job could be a significant part of my life without becoming the sole authority on my worth.

That distinction matters because external measures are unstable. A programme ends, a role changes, a contract is not renewed or the public moves its attention elsewhere. If confidence depends entirely on applause, every change can feel like a personal failure. A steadier definition of success has to include qualities that remain meaningful when the spotlight shifts.

What changed in my forties

My forties brought a clearer awareness of time. I became less interested in performing a version of myself that looked successful from the outside and more interested in building a life that felt truthful from within. That did not make me less ambitious. It made my ambition more selective.

I began to notice the difference between a full life and an overfilled one. A full life contains relationships, rest, curiosity, contribution and room to respond to the unexpected. An overfilled life leaves no space to hear your own thoughts. I had spent years treating every open space in my diary as an invitation to add another responsibility. Eventually, I understood that space was valuable in its own right.

My priorities also changed because my understanding of wellbeing changed. Looking after myself was no longer a reward I could claim after everything else had been completed. It became part of the structure that allowed me to work well, parent with greater presence, lead thoughtfully and communicate with honesty.

That realisation affected my choices. I became more willing to decline opportunities that looked impressive but felt misaligned. I started considering the energy a commitment required, the people it would affect and whether it connected with the values I wanted to express. Success became less about proving that I could do everything and more about deciding what deserved my best.

A wider measure of achievement

My revised definition includes meaningful work, financial stability and professional growth, but it also includes emotional health, time with people I love and the freedom to change direction. It recognises that resilience is not the ability to tolerate endless pressure. Sometimes resilience means noticing that a pattern is harming you and having the courage to interrupt it.

I now think about achievement through several questions. Did this work reflect my values? Did it allow me to bring something useful into the world? Did I remain connected to myself while doing it? Did the outcome justify the personal cost? These questions have made my decision-making slower in some situations, but they have also made it more honest.

This broader view has changed how I speak about leadership, women’s empowerment and personal growth. Leadership is not simply being the person with the answers. It is creating conditions in which people can be honest, capable and supported. In a workplace, that might mean listening properly, making expectations clear or recognising the human being behind the job title.

It has also changed how I understand visibility. Being seen can be powerful, particularly for women whose experiences have been minimised or ignored. Yet visibility should serve a purpose. I want my public work to make space for useful conversations about resilience, health, identity and change, rather than encouraging people to chase attention for its own sake.

Success that supports wellbeing

For years, I believed I had to earn rest. I could take a break once the work was finished, the messages were answered and everybody else was comfortable. The problem was that the work was never truly finished. There was always another deadline, appearance, journey or decision waiting.

Broadcasting taught me how quickly pressure can build. A busy day may involve preparation, live performance, constant judgement and the need to appear composed even when circumstances are changing around you. I have written about managing anxiety because practical tools can make a genuine difference when the nervous system is under strain.

Wellbeing does not mean removing every demanding experience from life. It means having enough awareness and support to meet pressure without abandoning yourself. For me, that includes recognising physical signs of stress, protecting recovery time, speaking openly and resisting the belief that asking for help is a sign of weakness.

The most successful version of my life is not the one in which I never feel anxious, tired or uncertain. It is the one in which those feelings can be acknowledged without taking over. A difficult day does not erase my capability. A pause does not cancel my ambition. Rest is part of how I remain available for meaningful work.

Practices I now use to make better choices

Changing my definition of success has required daily habits, rather than one dramatic decision. I still overcommit sometimes. I still feel the pull of comparison and the desire to demonstrate that I can manage. The difference is that I now recognise those patterns earlier and have more language for what is happening.

These are the principles I return to when my schedule becomes crowded or an opportunity feels difficult to assess:

• Measure the quality of your energy, not just the quantity of work you complete.
• Leave space between commitments so that every decision is not made in a rush.
• Define what “enough” means before you begin, rather than moving the goalposts indefinitely.
• Choose relationships and projects that allow honesty, respect and mutual growth.
• Review your priorities regularly because a definition of success should be allowed to evolve.

These practices are especially important during periods of transition. A career pivot can look risky when judged by conventional standards, yet staying in a role that no longer fits can carry its own cost. I explore the value of intentional change in career pivot, because reinvention is not limited to a particular age or professional stage.

A sustainable career is not necessarily a straight line. It may contain pauses, experiments, setbacks, retraining and unexpected opportunities. In my experience, the most rewarding direction is often revealed after we stop treating change as evidence that we have failed. Adaptability is a form of strength, especially when it is guided by self-knowledge rather than panic.

Why shared experience matters

One of the most important changes in my forties has been understanding that success is relational. It is shaped by the people who encourage us, challenge us, care for us and tell us the truth. Personal achievement can feel hollow when it leaves no room for connection.

This is why I believe so strongly in honest storytelling. When someone shares an experience of burnout, grief, anxiety, health difficulties or starting again, it can give another person language for something they have been carrying alone. A story does not need to offer a perfect solution to be valuable. Sometimes recognition is the first form of relief.

I have written about the shared story because openness can create connection where shame has created silence. Sharing should always involve choice and boundaries; nobody owes the world every detail of their life. Yet carefully told experiences can help us see that strength and vulnerability are allowed to exist together.

This perspective has influenced my work with This Girl Is On Fire. The platform is rooted in encouragement, honesty and the belief that women deserve support while they grow, lead, recover and redefine themselves. Empowerment is not a performance of constant confidence. It is the ability to make informed choices, use your voice and remain connected to your own values.

A definition that can keep growing

I no longer see success as a destination that will finally make me feel secure. It is a way of living that needs regular attention. The definition I hold today may change again as my responsibilities, health, relationships and ambitions develop. That flexibility is reassuring rather than threatening.

In my forties, I have become more comfortable with the idea that a good life can contain contradictions. I can want visibility and privacy, achievement and rest, independence and support. I can care about professional excellence while recognising that work is only one part of a whole person. I can be grateful for my career without allowing it to define every chapter ahead.

The most valuable milestones are now often quieter. They include having a difficult conversation instead of avoiding it, choosing recovery instead of unnecessary urgency, creating work that helps someone feel less alone and noticing when an old version of success no longer serves me. These moments may never appear on a professional biography, but they shape the quality of the life behind it.

If you are reassessing your own goals, you do not need to discard your ambition. You may simply need to give it better foundations. Let success include health, integrity, meaningful relationships, learning and the freedom to change. Let it reflect the person you are becoming, rather than the person you once believed you had to impress.

That is the definition I am carrying forward: success means doing work that matters, living in a way that supports my wellbeing and making enough room for connection, curiosity and growth. I invite you to explore the version of success that feels sustainable and true for you, and to bring that definition into the choices, conversations and opportunities that shape your next chapter.